Point of a Needle, Head of a Pin
by dnachemlia
Summary: A naval officer, missing for a year, turns up dead. The case becomes very personal for a member of Gibbs' team. NFA Hangman prize for Shinju90.
1. Chapter 1

**Point of a Needle, Head of a Pin**

Hangman prize for Shinju90. Multi-chapter.

NCIS/Supernatural Crossover

Genre: uh, gee…

Rating: T for language and violence

Characters: NCIS – The MCRT, Ducky, Abby, Palmer, and Vance; Supernatural – Team Free Will (including Bobby) and guests.

Set in early/mid season 7 of NCIS, early/mid season 5 of Supernatural, with flashbacks to the previous season for both.

Disclaimer: I don't own either. Bummer.

Summary: A naval officer, missing for a year, turns up dead. The case becomes very personal for a member of Gibbs' team.

* * *

_**How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?**_

_**It depends on the tune.**_

-_The Crow_, J O'Barr

The immense warehouse was eerily silent as Officer Roger Ferrera eased through the ruined doorway and shined his flashlight around the cavernous space. The call had come in to Dispatch roughly half an hour ago: someone cruising through the area had heard a disturbance and had placed an anonymous call to inform the police that a gang was tearing apart one of the warehouses in the area's oldest industrial park. Ferrera and his partner, Frank Hutchins, had been the closest to the park and had indicated that they would check it out. Vandalism wasn't generally high on their priority list, but since the warehouses belonged to one of the department's major supporters, a courtesy was extended quite willingly.

When the officers had arrived, they saw that every single window in the largest and most remote warehouse was shattered. The two men had then checked the perimeter and noticed that all of the doors were hanging loosely on their hinges. They had waited in silence, alert to any sign of the perpetrators, but the vandals appeared to have abandoned their tasks. Hutchins had suggested they split up to enter from the back and front of the warehouse, and Ferrera had reluctantly agreed, after calling for backup, and had headed for the main entrance.

Once inside, he looked around for a light switch and soon found a bank of switches to the right of the door. He flipped them all on, and only one weak bulb in the corner flicked to life. He shined his flashlight at the fixtures overhead and saw that the long tubes in the fluorescent lights were also shattered.

"Damn," he muttered. "What the hell were they doing in here?" He could now see that several sets of heavy shelving had been knocked over, creating a domino effect for the rest of the storage areas. As he passed the manager's office he noticed that all the windows, as well as the computer monitors and TV screen had been broken as well. "Christ. The chief is gonna have a shit fit when he sees what those punks did to his buddy's property, and now we gotta bring in the SOC monkeys."

"_Rog? You copy? Over."_

Ferrera pressed the button on his shoulder mic. "I copy. Over."

"_We've got a body. Over."_

"Gang member? Over.

"_Doubt it. Get on the horn and tell the chief to call NCIS. Over."_

"Navy cops? Body's a sailor? Over."

"_Looks like an officer. Wait…"_

Ferrera waited for his partner to give the sign he was done, but the com was silent. "Frank?"

He pulled his gun from its holster and cautiously made his way towards the back of the warehouse. Soon he spotted his partner, who was standing with his back to him and slowly moving his flashlight across and around the body sprawled on the floor in front of him.

"Frank?"

Hutchins turned and looked at his partner, his eyes wide with shock, and pointed at the body.

"Look."

Ferrera moved closer and turned his attention to the images his partner was illuminating with his flashlight. I took him a few moments to realize what he was seeing.

"What in the hell…?"

XXX

The cell phone vibrated against the coffee table, its frantic dance drawing Gibbs from an uneasy sleep. He grabbed the phone and answered it.

"Yeah, Gibbs… Mac? What…?" Gibbs listened, eyes widening slightly as he listened to the caller. "Yeah, OK. I got it. I get my team there ASAP. Yeah, understood." He snapped the phone shut, swung his legs over the side of the couch and pulled himself into a sitting position. He rubbed his eyes, opened his phone again and pressed a number.

"_DiNozzo_," the groggy voice on the other end answered.

"We got a case. Warehouse district in Frederick."

"_Got it. I'll call McGee and Ziva."_

"The Yard in thirty."

"_On it, Boss."_

Gibbs ended the call and headed up the stairs to get ready, but his mind was on what Mac had told him.

_Looks like it's gonna be a weird one…_

XXX

Gibbs brought the agency sedan to a halt in front of the warehouse and climbed out just as the MCRT truck and M.E.'s van arrived with the rest of the team.

"What do we got, Boss?"

"Body of a naval officer was found inside by two patrol officers."

Tony looked up at the building in front of them. "Looks like a bomb went off inside. _Was_ it a bomb?"

"Don't know, DiNozzo, that's what we're going to find out."

The team grabbed their supplies from the truck before heading into the warehouse, followed by Ducky and Palmer. The local police force had set up floodlights inside and the team paused for a moment as they took in the scene surrounding them.

"Looks like a heard of elephants on PCP went through here," observed Tony as they headed for the back of the warehouse.

"PCP's a _tranquilizer_ for animals, Tony."

"I know that, Probie, but…never mind. What's with you, McGrouchy?"

"Not enough sleep."

"Up all night killing people again?"

McGee noticed a group of local officers turn and give him strange looks. "No, Tony, I was not up all night playing computer games," he said, loud enough for the officers to hear. They chuckled and returned to their conversation.

"So what _were_ you doing, McGee?" asked Ziva.

"Trying to sleep, but…"

"But what?"

"Nothing. Just really weird dreams."

"Really?" Tony drawled with a grin. "Anything you want to share?"

"Not like that. Just… weird."

"Define 'weird'."

"Drop it, Tony, I…" McGee caught sight of the body and stopped so suddenly Tony nearly ran into him.

"Nice warning there, McTrainwreck. What…?" Tony heard Ziva gasp as he saw what had drawn McGee's attention. He froze for several moments before managing to croak, "What in the hell…?"

The body, dressed in the uniform of a Navy Lieutenant, was on its back, arms and legs outspread. The body was mostly unmarked, and the only sign of violence was what appeared to be a diamond-shaped puncture wound in the chest. What had drawn their collective attention, however, were the marks around the body. They appeared to be made of ash and stretched out from either side, spanning nearly twenty feet. The shapes that had at first appeared to be random soon resolved to form an incredible, _impossible_ image…

They looked like wings.

_TBC…_

* * *

*SOC = Scene of Crime, another name for CSIs.

It will be a little while, but hopefully not too long until the next chapter. I have a couple of stories to finish this month, though.


	2. Chapter 2

**Point of a Needle, Head of a Pin**

Hangman prize for Shinju90. Multi-chapter.

NCIS/Supernatural Crossover

Disclaimer: Still don't own, damn it.

* * *

Chapter 2

Gibbs stared at the body before them, barely able to contain his own shock at what they were all seeing. Local police Chief Russell MacTaggart had told Gibbs what his officers had discovered at the scene, but seeing it for himself was a completely different story. He glanced at his team to gauge their reactions to the strange tableau. They all looked a shocked as Gibbs had felt, but McGee was white as a sheet. He continued to stare, wide-eyed at the body while Tony and Ziva managed to turn their attention to their team leader.

"Boss, what-?"

"Get to work, DiNozzo."

Tony and Ziva started to unpack their equipment while Ducky and Palmer moved closer to examine the body, carefully avoiding stepping on the strange marks surrounding it. McGee seemed to still be frozen in place.

"McGee!"

Tim jumped slightly and looked at Gibbs.

"Y-yeah, Boss?"

"You know this guy?"

"Uh, no…"

"Then maybe you need to get us an ID," Gibbs snapped.

"Right, Boss." He pulled the portable fingerprint scanner out of his bag and, after a moment's hesitation, stepped towards the body, also avoiding the strange marks. After getting permission from Ducky, he carefully raised one of the body's hands and placed its thumb on the scanner. He read the information that popped up and his forehead creased in puzzlement. He glanced up at the face of the man and then back at the screen.

"Well?"

"Lieutenant Gregory Allen Pruitt, formerly stationed aboard the Big Stick, before being assigned to the base in San Diego as a control officer. He's been UA for over a year, Boss."

"Call the San Diego Office and have them send us their case file, then help Tony and Ziva."

"Yes, Boss." McGee moved off to join the rest of the team, although his movements were more hesitant than they had been in years. Gibbs made a mental note to corner the agent later and find out what was bothering him before turning his attention to the M.E.

"What can you tell me, Duck?"

Ducky had turned the body on its side and was examining the back. "The apparent cause of death is a through and through stab wound, Jethro. I see no other marks on him. The object which created the wound is a curiosity, however. I haven't seen anything like this before. It had to be long enough to go completely through the body, yet was not a flat blade. I believe this is the entrance wound."

"Stabbed in the back? So he was caught by surprise?"

"As I said, I see no defensive wounds."

"Why the wings?"

Both older men turned to the M.E.'s assistant, who blushed at his obviously unintentionally audible question.

"Sorry…"

"An interesting question, Mr. Palmer, and one for which I do not currently have an answer, or even speculation."

"Symbolic, maybe?" Gibbs asked, eyeing the marks that his team was busy documenting.

"Perhaps, but from what I can see, there is a great deal of detail in these markings. Why someone would go to so much trouble when some simpler representation would suffice…well, I cannot say." He chuckled. "One my as well ask '_how many angels could fit on the point of a needle?'_"

"I thought it was '_dance on the head of a pin?_'"

"Either form has been used, Mr. Palmer. I was simply alluding to the fact that some questions may never be answered, as was the likely point of that particular question."

"Anything you _can_ answer, Duck?"

Ducky inserted the liver probe and waited for a reading. When it beeped, he checked the number and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Forty degrees Fahrenheit."

Palmer looked up at his mentor, eyes wide with shock. "That's impossible. To reach that he would have had to have been refrigerated, but-."

"He shows no other outward signs of such treatment. His skin shows none of the drying that it normally would if he had been placed in a cold environment."

"And according to the local cops, the body has only been here a couple of hours."

"Very strange, indeed. We appear to have quite a mystery on our hands, Jethro, but I am sure I will be able to tell you more once we get our friend here to Autopsy."

"Counting on it, Duck." Gibbs turned and walked over to the group of local police, which, he hoped, included the officers who had discovered the body.

"Officers Ferrera and Hutchins?" Two men stepped forward. "Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS. What can you tell me?" The two men glanced at each other and then at their colleagues. "Is there a place where we can talk?" They nodded and headed for the exit.

The local crime scene techs were documenting the damage to the rest of the building, but had left the scene around the body clear for the MCRT to process. As Gibbs followed the officers past the destruction, he felt an uncomfortable twist in his gut. There was a lot more to this than random vandalism, but exactly what it meant he couldn't begin to articulate. Hopefully the information both teams recovered could bring answers, but an even more uncomfortable feeling arose at that thought: maybe they really didn't want to know.

Once outside, the officers quickly moved to the shelter of one of the other buildings and turned to face the lead agent. The younger of the two, Fererra, started to speak.

"We received the call from dispatch about a half-hour before we arrived. We drove through the park and saw the damage to that warehouse, so we decided to check it out. We waited to make sure no one had stuck around, called for backup, and then split up and went inside the building."

"You didn't wait for your backup?"

Hutchins shifted uncomfortably. "Didn't really think we needed it, but called, just in case. Figured if there really was a problem we could get out fast."

"Who discovered the body?"

"I did," said Hutchins. "When I recognized the uniform I told Roger to call and have someone call you guys in. And then I saw…well, you saw it, right?"

"I did. Any of the gangs around use symbols like that?"

"Agent Gibbs, you're seriously overestimating the ambition of the local gangs if you think they did… _that."_

"Seen stranger."

"Well I haven't. I mean… it looks like your dead Navy officer had wings and they just…burned in place. It's _weird._"

"Anything else you can tell me?"

"No." Gibbs noticed a brief flicker of uncertainty in the other officer's eyes and he turned to the younger man.

"What about you, Officer Fererra?"

"I…a cousin of mine works for the St. Louis police department. He said he heard rumors of some strange cult killing there, and the victim had, well, similar marks around them."

"And you didn't mention this before?" Hutchins asked.

"Hey, it was just a rumor. Besides, I told you, he's generally full of shit anyway. I didn't want to freak you out even more."

"I am not freaked out—"

"Hey!" Both men jumped and turned to Gibbs. "Is there anything _substantial_ that you can tell me?"

Both men shook their heads, and after studying them for a few moments Gibbs decided they were telling the truth.

"If you think of anything else, you know where to reach me."

"Yes, sir."

Gibbs headed back to the scene, making another mental note to have McGee check on those rumors in St. Louis.

XXX

McGee leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes briefly to relieve the strain. He had been staring at the screen for nearly twelve hours straight, reviewing the San Diego case file on Lieutenant Pruitt and then starting his own follow-up searches. He had learned that Pruitt had vanished from his home in September of the previous year. The west coast team had not found any evidence of foul play, although the Lieutenant's wife had reported that he had been acting strangely in the few days before he disappeared. Further digging revealed that Pruitt only mentioned that he was being 'recruited', but had not provided any further clarification. His superior officers had believed Pruitt's recruiters had been potential terrorists and had called in NCIS to investigate, but the San Diego team had been unable to uncover any links between known terrorist groups, both foreign and domestic. The case was eventually moved to cold status when, after monitoring the chatter of those groups, it was decided that they had no knowledge of the Lieutenant's whereabouts. His wife had pushed for more time and manpower to be assigned to the case but to no avail. After reading her desperate pleas on behalf of her husband's welfare, McGee was very glad he wouldn't have to be the one to tell her that her husband was dead.

_At least she'll have some closure now_, he thought as he absently rubbed his eyes. McGee fought down the anxiety that had been gnawing at his subconscious ever since he had seen the body and had been growing as he read through the case. When Gibbs had asked him to look into similar cases, he hadn't expected to find anything. To his great surprise, there were similar incidents, although it appeared that a tight lid was being kept on those. McGee had only been able to find the barest of details, but it was enough to see the connection, and it was that detail that had McGee thinking back to his own experience.

_Soldier in an army… fighting evil… accept your destiny…_

With a start McGee awoke and it took a few seconds to escape the dream…and the memories of a _previous _dream. He looked up to see Tony staring at him.

"I'm awake." He expected a grin, evidence of some mischief directed at him while he had been dozing, but Tony's expression was serious. "What?" He glanced at Ziva, but she just shrugged and focused on her phone conversation.

"You OK?"

The question surprised him even more than the senior agent's expression had.

"Fine. Why?"

"'Cause you've been acting weird ever since the crime scene."

"Well, you have to admit, it was a little…disconcerting."

"Does this 'disconcern' have anything to do with your weird dreams and lack of sleep?"

"That's not even a real word, Tony. And no, my lack of sleep is just…that. Perfectly normal, all part of the job. You should know that."

"So what did you dream about?"

"Forget it, Tony."

"Aw come on, man. You can tell me."

"I never should have mentioned it…"

"But you did, which means subconsciously you _wanted_ to talk about it."

"You've been spending too much time around Ducky."

Tony just grinned. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"No, I just wish there were some of his other personality traits you'd pick up."

"Whatever. Just tell me. I promise I won't make fun of your dreams…much."

Tim couldn't help the small smile that appeared at his partner's attempts to get him share his secrets.

"Not gonna happen, Tony."

"How about you two getting some work done, is that gonna happen?" Gibbs snapped as he entered the bullpen.

"It's happening, Boss," Tony replied as he hurried back to his desk.

"Does anybody have anything?"

Ziva placed her phone back on its cradle. "No suspicious activity in the industrial park prior to the incident last night. The owner of the warehouse is an active supporter of the local police force and is very active in other areas of the community, but politically and financially. No police record, no evidence of involvement in any type of illegal activity."

"DiNozzo."

"Pruitt got along with everyone that he worked with before he disappeared. No activity on his credit cards since his disappearance, and no cash withdrawals from his bank account before he went UA."

"McGee."

"The west coast team found no evidence of terrorist involvement, either before or after Pruitt's disappearance. I checked for other cases, both for missing persons and for the …signature at the scene. I found at least five where a body was found amongst a lot of destruction, and…well, they mention 'ritualized markings' around the body, but the details are pretty sketchy."

"Keep looking. Go talk to Ducky and see if he can give you more details on the weapon used, then go see Abby and see if she has anything on the stuff used to make the marks. Might help narrow your search."

"On it, Boss."

He headed for the elevator, happy to have an excuse to stretch his legs and to escape Tony's prying. He really didn't want to think about the dreams he had had the night before, or the fact that last night was not the first time he had experienced them.

Tim stepped into the empty elevator and leaned against the back wall as the doors closed. He checked his watch and sighed. It had been a long day, and it looked like it would be a long night as well. At least he wouldn't have to worry about more strange dreams…

"Timothy McGee."

Startled, he turned and stared in shock at the man who had suddenly appeared in the elevator with him.

"What-?"

"We need to talk."

"But how…how did you get in here?"

The man – tall, slightly heavyset, and wearing an expensive suit – gave Tim a smile that didn't reach his eyes. It wasn't a nice smile, McGee decided with a sinking feeling, and he pulled out his phone to call for help.

"No need for that, Timothy. I'm here because I have a job for you. A very important job."

McGee blinked, wondering if he had dozed off again and this was just another dream.

"It's not a dream, Timothy." He raised his hands and held them out to the sides, palms up. "This is as real as it gets."

"Who…who _are_ you?"

The man chuckled, and that sound sent a sharp thrill of terror through the agent, although he didn't immediately know why. Finally the man met his gaze and gave him another one of those chilling smiles.

"Call me Zachariah."

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

**Point of a Needle, Head of a Pin**

Hangman prize for Shinju90. Multi-chapter.

NCIS/Supernatural Crossover

* * *

Chapter 3

"_Call me Zachariah."_

Tim stared at the man, barely able to suppress the irrational feeling that he _wasn't_ a man at all.

"What do you want?" he asked, fighting to keep his voice steady.

The man chuckled. "Your boss might enjoy using this place for meetings, but it's far too cramped for me. Time to move this to a more…suitable location." Before Tim could react, the man stepped forward and placed two forward fingers against his forehead. Tim dropped his phone in surprise as darkness swirled around him, and suddenly he found himself falling quickly followed by a soft thump as he landed on his butt. The ground beneath him was soft but cold, as was the air around him, and he soon found it much more difficult to breathe. He looked around, his eyes widening in surprise as he took in his surroundings.

"Where…"

"The summit of Mt. Elbert, in Colorado. Tallest mountain in the state, 14,440 feet above sea level. Really gives you an appreciation for God's work, doesn't it?"

Tim felt a shiver course through him, which had nothing to do with the cold or the fact that he was sitting in snow. _Please tell me I'm dreaming…please tell me I'm dreaming._

"Now enough of that. I already told you, this isn't a dream."

"How…how did we…?"

"Neat trick, isn't it? Teleportation. For humans, the stuff of fantasy and science fiction but a simple thing to accomplish for an angel."

"You…you're an…an _angel_?"

Zachariah snorted. "And they said you were one of the smart ones. Yes, I'm an angel, or at least the form of one that you can actually see and survive. An angel needs a human vessel to walk the Earth, which is why we need _you_. We did ask before, you know. You _do_ remember?"

Suddenly Tim was sucked into his memories from a year ago: the strange dreams, a voice in his head, painful at first, asking him to join the battle, to accept his role in the war.

"I…I said no."

"Yes, we know. As you did last night, when we asked again. Stubborn little mud monkey, aren't you? But never mind that, we've decided we have slightly different job for you now, one that you might find a little more agreeable."

"I don't…understand _any_ of this."

"Of course you don't, and you don't need to understand it. It's beyond the comprehension of pathetic little lifeforms such as you humans. If it was up to me, I wouldn't bother with you, but it's not. I answer to a higher power."

"You mean…God?" At this point Tim had already decided he had probably lost his mind, so it couldn't hurt anything to play along, could it?

"Well…no. He doesn't have much to do with things these days. Doesn't like to get his hands dirty, I suspect."

"Then who?"

"Michael."

"Micahel…the _archangel_?"

"That's the one. You see, he has his eyes on his own destined vessel, but that little mag…_individual_ isn't cooperating. He's hidden from us. We need to find him, and that's part of why we need you."

"W-what can I do?"

"You have ways of tracking people down. Access that we don't have, unfortunately. We need a direct visual to locate our target, and we need you to get that for us."

"That's all?"

"No. You see, we've had such a problem in the past with that… 'free will' thing you humans try to exercise that we've decided that you'll need some extra supervision. A co-pilot, if you will."

"You want me to…?"

"You _are_ still a vessel, and we need you for that, but we're willing to give you a little more of a free reign. You'll still be mostly there, and in control, because we _do_ need your human skills, but when the time comes…well, someone else will need to take the wheel."

Tim's gut was screaming at him that this was wrong, all wrong. Even if he _wasn't_ crazy, which didn't look like a likely option at this point, the idea of allowing something to take control of him…he didn't want to accept it.

"What…what would happen to me when someone else takes over?"

"Well, you're in luck: it's not an archangel that needs you. They tend to be quite rough on their human hosts. If all goes well, once your task is done, you'll be able to go back to your normal, if somewhat boring, existence."

"But…why do angels need to walk the Earth? Why now?"

"To stop the Apocalypse."

"_What?"_

"Already started, but it can be derailed. We wouldn't want it to continue, now would we? Imagine, all of this—" He spread his arms and turned his back to Tim. "-would be gone. I'd hate to see all of my father's hard work go to waste, wouldn't you?"

Before Tim could answer, he thought he heard a slight rustle behind him and felt a strong hand cover his mouth. Suddenly the darkness returned.

XXX

Zachariah smiled. He was pretty sure he'd sold it this time. This particular human was different than those damn Winchesters, much less cynical, yet conditioned to try and please someone in authority. He allowed his own vessel to take a deep breath and spoke in his most winning tone. "What do you say, Timothy McGee? Do we have a deal?"

He turned and froze in surprise. The potential vessel was gone. The angel moved to where the man had been sitting and looked down to find a pair of footprints in the snow, directly behind the marks left by his guest. Immediately he knew what that meant and felt a surge of fury.

"_Son of a -!"_

XXX

Jimmy Palmer carefully balanced the sample containers and clipboard in one hand as he used his other to press the elevator button. Dr. Mallard had instructed him to take the samples up to Abby, hoping that maybe she could make some sense of the strange state the body of Lieutenant Pruitt was in.

The doors slid open and when he stepped inside, he noticed a phone lying of the floor of the elevator. He picked it up and examined it, remembering that he has seen McGee with a phone that looked just like this one. Maybe the agent had dropped it on his way to see Abby? Jimmy tucked the phone in his pocket and pushed the button for the next floor up. If McGee was still in the lab, he could just return it to him, saving him the embarrassment of searching for it later.

Once the doors opened again he went straight to Abby's lab, but was surprised to find her alone.

"Hey Abby, Dr. Mallard sent these samples." He placed them on her lab table and handed her the clipboard to sign. "Was McGee here? I think I found his phone in the elevator."

"I haven't seen him, Jimmy. Are you sure it's his phone?" He pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to her. She checked the number and a puzzled expression crossed her face. "It's his. I'm surprised he hasn't missed it already."

"I guess I should go take it to him. Unless you want to…?"

"Too much to do here, Jimmy. These samples from the scene today? Seriously hinky."

"How hinky, Abs?" asked Gibbs as he walked into the lab and placed a _Caf-Pow!_ on her desk.

"Hinky as in Major Mass Spec can't tell me what this stuff is made of. It's not in his library, which is weird. I can't even get what elements are in this stuff… But I'll figure it out."

"Is McGee down in Autopsy?" Gibbs asked as he turned to Jimmy.

"Uh, not that I know of, Agent Gibbs."

He turned to Abby. "Call him, we need him back upstairs."

"Gonna be kind of hard to do that Gibbs. Timmy dropped his phone in the elevator." She handed it to the lead agent and he frowned.

"Maybe...he's looking for it now," offered Jimmy.

"He's supposed to be here. When did he leave?"

"He never got here, Gibbs. When did you send him down?"

"About ten minutes ago." He pulled out his own phone and dialed a number. "Duck? Is McGee there? If he shows up tell him I'm looking for him. I have his phone." He ended the call and dialed another number. "DiNozzo? Where's McGee? What do you mean he's not there?" Gibbs swore. "Where in the hell is he?" He listened. "No, he's not in Abby's lab. Because _I'm_ here. Find him." He snapped his phone shut and turned to Abby who was watching him with wide, worried eyes.

"Where could he have gone, Gibbs? Maybe he got sick."

"He was acting weird earlier…not that I should say anything about that. I'll check the bathrooms on this floor," Jimmy stammered and rushed out under Gibbs angry gaze.

"I'll help. We have to find him, Gibbs." Abby hurried after Palmer and Gibbs shook his head. He left the lab and headed down to Autopsy, where he found Ducky still working on the body. He listened to Gibbs question and frowned.

"I'm sorry Jethro, but I haven't seen Timothy since this morning…I certainly hope something hasn't happened to him."

Now very worried, but still hiding it, Gibbs called the evidence garage, storage area, and motor pool. No one had seen the agent. Gibbs made a call to security to and when he learned that McGee had not signed out, he told them to put the building on lockdown. Finally he called DiNozzo.

"_Still haven't found him, Boss. What's going on?"_

"I wish to hell I knew, DiNozzo. Keep looking."

Fifteen minutes later DiNozzo reported in: McGee was nowhere in the building. The agent had somehow vanished from a secure building without a trace.

XXX

Tim felt a solid surface beneath his feat just before he tipped forward and nearly face-planted on the dirty wooden floor. He barely managed to catch himself and collapsed, wondering why the world seemed to have suddenly gone insane. He rolled over on his back and looked up, surprised to find a roof above him and walls surrounding him, all painted with strange symbols.

"Where am I?"

"Five miles west of Pontiac, Illinois."

Startled, he turned towards the speaker, different from the man who had just been speaking to him on a snowy mountaintop. This man had a full head of dark hair and intense blue eyes. He was dressed in a suit with a loosely knotted blue tie and wore a rumpled tan trenchcoat.

"W-who…?"

"What did Zachariah want?"

"H-how…?"

The man looked up, as if he were listening to something, and paused for only a moment before moving forward and crouching down in front of Tim. "They're looking for you. You need to remain hidden." He quickly placed his hands on Tim's chest and the agent felt like he was on fire as a burning agony surged through him, which dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, leaving the young man gasping in its wake.

"W-what d-did you do t-to m-me?"

"Enochian protection symbols. They won't be able to find you now."

Tim looked down at himself but saw nothing. "W-where…?"

"I carved them into your ribs."

"Oh…" Tim was quite sure now that his sanity had left the building.

"What did Zachariah want with you?"

"He…said he needed me to find someone. And that…I'd have a…co-pilot."

The man tilted his head and studied Tim, which did nothing for his state of mind.

"Did he say who?"

"N-not an archangel. But I'd be helping…M-michael."

An odd look crossed the man's face, almost as if he was not sure what emotion to display, or whether he should show it at all. Finally Tim ventured to ask a question to which he was pretty sure he really didn't want the answer.

"Who are you?"

"Castiel."

"Are you…an angel, too?"

"Yes, but Zachariah and I are not on the same side."

"So you're…a f-fallen angel?"

"No. Not like Lucifer, if that is what you mean. I am…rebelling, but not against God. Only against the angels like Zachariah, who want the Apocalypse."

"But he said he wanted to _stop_ the Apocalypse."

"He does not."

"Angels can lie?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Tim collapsed back against the floor and covered his eyes. "I don't suppose there's any chance that this is one very bizarre nightmare…or that I'm really, _really_ sick and this is just a fever dream."

"No."

Tim laughed, wondering if _hallucinations_ at least told the truth.

"Then I'm just crazy, right."

"You are in complete control of your faculties, Timothy McGee."

"Just…call me Tim, please."

"Fine. Tim. You are not crazy. All of this is very real. I am sorry you were pulled into this war."

"War?"

"For the future of the human race. If Michael and Lucifer are able to take hold of their vessels, then the battle will begin, and mankind will suffer. Billions may die. I am part of a…small team trying to prevent that from happening."

"How can I help?"

Tim opened his eyes and saw that the angel was looking down at him, an almost thoughtful expression on his face. "You are willing to join our cause?"

"I think I'm kind of already in the middle of this. The other side already tried to recruit me…more than once. They dragged me from my normal…_safe_ life, and…I don't even know if I can go back. I'm still not sure I can trust your side, but…I'm going with my gut on this one."

Castiel's gaze traveled to Tim's mid-section and the puzzled expression returned. "I do not know what your stomach has to do with your choice, but I am grateful you are willing to take a chance. Come. I'll take you to the rest of the group." Without further warning, Castiel put two fingers to Tim's forehead and he felt the now familiar sensation engulf him. The next thing he knew he was laying on his back in the middle of what looked like a wrecking yard.

"Castiel?"

The angel was nowhere in sight. Tim pulled himself to his feet and saw, a few hundred yards away, a rather run-down looking house. He staggered towards it, hoping there was someone inside who could at least make _some_ sense of all this. Nearly all of his strength was gone by the time he reached the front steps, but before he could raise a hand to knock, the door swung open and he found himself gazing down the twin barrels of a sawed-off shotgun. Slowly he raised his hands in surrender.

The man holding the gun looked to be about Tim's own age, but something in those dark green eyes made the agent think he had seen far worse things during his comparable lifetime.

"Who the hell are you?" the man growled, and Tim saw that he had been joined by another man: taller, younger, and just as dangerous judging by how he held the pistol he had aimed at Tim's head.

"I'm…" He couldn't even begin to explain why, or how, he had wound up on the porch. Before he could attempt to form an answer, he heard a soft rustling sound behind him and the man's eyes widened as he gazed over Tim's shoulder.

"Cas? What…who is this?"

"Someone who wants to help."

The man's gaze flickered between Tim and the angel before a bemused expression crossed his face.

"_Please_ tell me this isn't God."

Finally, everything that had happened suddenly caught up with the agent, and Tim did the only thing that made any sense.

He passed out.

TBC…


	4. Chapter 4

Tried to upload this last night, and the site was being stupid again. Grrr...

* * *

Chapter 4

Gibbs and Vance arrived in the bullpen at the same time, although Vance managed to get the first word in.

"What in the hell is going on, Gibbs? Security called to say you ordered the lockdown and building search. Where is Agent McGee?"

"Trying to figure that out, Leon. DiNozzo!"

"Camera feed for the past hour is on its way, Boss."

"Where was he last seen?"

"Outside the interior elevators. He was alone when he got on, and no one has seen him leave the building."

"Any sign he left under his own free will?"

Gibbs just glared at Vance and Tony and Ziva exchanged worried glances. Their silence was noticed by both men.

"What?"

"McGee's been acting a little weird since the crime scene, Boss. The whole thing really seemed to freak him out."

"Did he say why?"

"No."

Any further discussion was interrupted by the arrival of the technician bearing the DVDs of the security footage. Gibbs ordered the man to pull up the video on the plasma and he headed for McGee's computer.

"Not that one. It may be evidence." Gibbs shot Vance another glare before motioning the tech to the lead agent's desk. After fumbling for a minute, the tech managed to get the footage from the bullpen camera up on the screen. The group watched as the image of McGee, who was obviously tired but did not appear to be overly worried, moved to the elevators and stopped before pressing the down button. When the doors opened, he stepped into an empty elevator and turned around just as the doors slid shut. About ten seconds later, the image on the camera was replaced with static.

"What the…?" The tech reversed the video and then slowly moved it forward frame by frame. The static appeared again and the tech fast-forwarded the video until the image cleared, then reversed it again. No images were visible through the static, which lasted for about thirty seconds. Muttering to himself, the tech began to check through the rest of the footage but the static did not reappear. He stopped the DVD and removed it before putting in a new disc.

"This is from the next level down." He cued up the new footage and scrolled though until it reached the same time frame he had just checked. The static appeared on that feed as well, and disappeared within the same time frame. The tech let the video run past the static and as the image cleared the elevator doors opened. No one stepped out and from what they could see, the elevator was empty.

"What in the hell?" Tony yelped. "Where did he go?"

"I believe that is what we are trying to figure out, Agent DiNozzo. Mr. Hinsen, collect all of the footage from this time frame and take it to Cybercrimes. See if they can trace the source of the interference. Then send someone up to get McGee's computer. I need to know what he was working on before all of this happened. I'll check and see if anyone is claiming responsibility for this."

"You think someone took McGee and disrupted the feed so they would not be detected?"

"That seems the most likely scenario, Agent David, unless McGee somehow transported _himself_ out of the elevator without being seen."

"Not funny, Leon. Who would have the capability to do this?"

"I don't know, Gibbs. If we're lucky it was one of our own agencies. If not, we've got one hell of a situation on our hands."

"Ya _think?_ What about my agent? What kind of 'situation' is he in?"

"I wish I knew. I'll keep you informed, Gibbs." He turned to the tech, who was watching the exchange with wide eyes. "What are you waiting for, Hinsen?"

"Sorry, sir, sorry." He nearly tripped over his own feet in his rush to get to the elevator. Vance watched the man leave with the slightest hint of annoyance on his face and then quickly headed up the stairs to his office.

"Boss?"

"Tell Abby to run a check on McGee's phone, then start checking going over Pruitt's case file from the San Diego office. Ziva, see if you can find any connection between Pruitt and McGee."

"You think McGee's disappearance is related to our current case?"

"I don't believe in coincidences, Ziva, and I sure as hell don't want McGee to end up like Pruitt!"

"Yes, Gibbs." She returned to her desk and started to type, while Tony made the call to Abby and Gibbs stormed off towards the director's office.

After Tony had finally managed to relay Gibbs' instructions to Abby amidst her worried ramblings he hung up the phone and turned to Ziva.

"Find anything?"

"I have just started, Tony. I am not—." She took a deep breath. "I am not McGee."

Tony winced and turned to his own assigned task. He knew McGee had been looking at the file and from the expressions he had seen on the younger man's face he knew that it had bothered him. Tony really wished he had pressed harder to get the truth. He opened the file and started to re-read it much more carefully. But no particular bit of information jumped out at him and finally he looked up at Ziva. She was facing her computer screen but Tony was fairly sure she was not seeing it, judging by the expression on her face.

"Ziva? What's wrong?" She jumped slightly and looked up at him with clearly visible worry in her eyes.

"You do not think…you do not think that this was because of me?"

"_You?_ Why would you…?" Suddenly it dawned on him. "You think Mossad is behind this? And your father?"

"Or maybe someone else who is retaliating for the things I have done."

"Then why take McGee?"

"Why would someone _else_ take him from us?"

Tony considered everything they knew. "Maybe he stumbled on something he shouldn't have while searching for information on Pruitt. _Damn it!_ What did he see in that file, and why didn't he tell us?"

"I do not know. Whatever it is, we need to find it. It may be our only chance of figuring out why he was taken."

"Or _who_ took him. And seriously, how in the hell did they ever get him out of here without any of us seeing them?"

"That's what we're going to find out, DiNozzo," said Gibbs as he descended the stairs from the catwalk, and the look on his face silenced any questions the remaining members of his team may have had.

"On it, Boss."

XXX

Consciousness slowly returned, but Tim kept his eyes shut, afraid of what he might see. He soon became aware that he was lying on something soft, lumpy, and not altogether pleasant–smelling. He had the sense that there were other people in the room and he cautiously opened his eyes, hoping that everything really had been just a dream and he would see the faces of his teammates. When his vision cleared, he groaned. It hadn't been a dream.

"You OK?" asked the man closest to him, the one who had opened the door.

"Define OK," Tim muttered and he saw a flash of a grin on the man's face.

"Alive and intact. Physically, at least. Sanity is optional."

"Good to know." He slowly took in his surroundings. "Where am I?"

"South Dakota," answered the younger man that he had also seen earlier. "I'm guessing that's not where you started the day."

"No." He swung his legs over the edge of the sofa and carefully sat up, groaning softly as his stiffness and soreness made themselves known. He noticed another man, similarly dressed to the others but also wearing a ball cap, and his eyes widened slightly when he saw the man was seated in a wheel chair. He searched for a sign of the man… _angel_ that had brought him to this place but the three men were the only others in the room. "Who are you?"

"I'm Dean, and this is my brother, Sam. Over there is Bobby. This is his place." Tim managed to raise a hand and wave at the older man in acknowledgment. Bobby just snorted softly and shook his head. "And you are?"

"Tim...McGee."

"Well Tim McGee, you mind telling exactly how you wound up here? Cas didn't bother to tell us before he took off again. Well, other than you're here to help, but I've got a pretty good idea that you have no freaking clue what that means."

Tim felt a slight twinge of anger at the man's assumption, but he did his best to remain calm. "I…I was at work, and this…man appeared and said he needed to talk to me. Next thing I knew I was at the top of a mountain in Colorado and he was telling me he needed my help to find someone and help stop the Apocalypse."

"This guy give you his name?"

"Zachariah."

Dean swore. "What else?"

"Well, uh, Castiel showed up and… took me some barn near Pontiac, Illinois. He said 'they' were looking for me and then he…" Tim winced at the memory. "He carved something into my ribs for protection." He saw the brothers cringe in sympathy and managed a weak smile before he continued his story. "He told me that Zachariah had lied and that he _didn't_ want to stop the Apocalypse, but that he, Castiel that is, he _was_ trying to stop it, along with a small group. I told him I wanted to help and he brought me here."

"Why did you offer to help? Most people would run screaming in the opposite direction."

"I figured that I was already in the middle of this, since Zachariah tried to recruit me...several times, and—."

"Wait. He tried to recruit you before?"

"Well, no, not him specifically. He just said 'they' had tried to recruit me before. A little over a year ago, and then again last night."

"You're a vessel?" Sam guessed, and Dean swore again.

"That's what Zachariah said. I'm still not sure exactly what that means, though."

"It means you're an angel condom. They'll wear you to the party and once it's over, _phft_. They'll toss you."

Tim winced at Dean's rather crude description. "How do you know all of this?"

The two brothers exchanged looks. "Trust me, you don't want to know."

"Yes, I _do_. If I'm going to be in the middle of all this, not that I'm not already, I need to know what I'll be facing." He met Dean's gaze. "I may not have a clue yet, but that doesn't mean you need to try and keep me from figuring it out."

The men exchanged looks again and Tim thought he saw the same type of silent communication that Tony and Gibbs always used. Finally Sam spoke.

"To make a long story short, the Apocalypse was foretold long before any of us were around, and apparently Michael and Lucifer needed their destined vessels before the whole thing could get started. Once the vessels became available, and all of the conditions were met, Lucifer had to be freed from his cage. Over the last year, the seals…basically locks that were keeping Lucifer in his cage were broken…and now he and Michael are waiting to take over their vessels so the battle can begin."

"Zachariah mentioned something about that. He said Michael couldn't find his vessel and…" Suddenly an idea struck him. "One of you is it?"

Dean sighed and raised his hand. "Guilty."

Tim barely managed to control the reeling of his mind in order to ask the next question. "But what about Lucifer? Has _he_ found his vessel?"

"He has a temporary vessel at the moment, but no, his true vessel is hidden as well," Sam replied, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

Tim noticed Sam's expression and felt a chill creep down his spine. "You?"

He repeated Dean's sigh and gesture. "Guilty."

Tim turned to Bobby, who had remained silent. "What about you?"

"Nothin'. These two idjits just dragged me along for the ride."

"And all of you…you're trying to stop the final battle?" They nodded. "How?"

"Well, Cas is out looking for God since he figures that's the only one who can stop all of this. Me, Sam, and Bobby have been hitting the books, trying to find something that will kill the Devil. We figure if we can do that, problem solved."

Tim barely managed to parse the first statement. "Castiel is looking for…?" He remembered Dean's reaction when the angel had 'introduced' him. "And you thought _I_ was…?"

"Trust me, we've seen stranger." Dean tilted his head and studied Tim. "What _do_ you do, anyway?"

"I work for NCIS. That's the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. I'm a field agent."

"A…Cas kidnapped a _Fed_?"

"Well, technically, he didn't-."

"Oh, that's just great!" Dean threw up his hands and stalked out of the room, but before he left Tim could have sworn he saw raw guilt on the man's face.

"What…?" Tim turned to Sam. "Did something happen with-?"

"I think he just remembered the _last_ Federal agent who helped us," Sam replied softly. "It didn't end well. I'm sorry, I'll talk to him." The younger man rose and followed his brother. Tim tried to gather everything he had learned into something that made sense. Failing in that, he finally turned to Bobby.

"Is there anything I _can_ do?"

"Dunno. We can always use help in the book work, and a fresh pair of eyes couldn't hurt. Why _are_ you willing to help, kid?"

"I…I know I got dragged into all this, and I probably shouldn't want to have anything to do with it, but… if what you are saying is true, then everyone I care about is in danger. I can't sit by and do nothing. I just _can't_."

"OK. Whatever you say. I better give you a crash course, though, so you'll know what you're up against." He rolled the chair over to his overflowing desk, collected several heavy volumes which he placed in his lap, and then rolled over to the sofa where Tim sat to deposit his load. "This will help you get started."

Tim eyed the stack of books, immediately wishing for an electronic version. "How long do you think…all of this is going to take?"

"I think we're _all_ in this for the long haul, Tim. You _still_ sure you want to help?"

Tim thought of his family, his team, and everything he cared about. _Could_ he ever forgive himself if he didn't do all he could to protect them?

"Yeah. I'm sure." He picked up the first book and opened it to the first page. He scanned the information and his eyes widened: there was more to this than he had ever imagined. After a few minutes he turned to the older man.

"I do have one more question."

"Yeah?"

He sighed. "How am I going to explain this to my boss?"

TBC…

* * *

One more chapter to go.


	5. Chapter 5

Point of a Needle, Head of a Pin

Hangman prize for Shinju90. Multi-chapter.

NCIS/Supernatural Crossover

* * *

Chapter 5

Tim resumed reading and tried to concentrate on the words in front of him, but he was worried about the people he had left behind at the Yard. He could just imagine Gibbs' reaction when couldn't find his agent and he hoped his boss would not think he had voluntarily walked out on a case. The rest of his team would be annoyed, then worried, and he hated to think that he was the cause of their anxiety. He really _did_ need to find a way to tell Gibbs. He only hoped the lead agent wouldn't automatically think Tim had lost his mind.

He heard footsteps and looked up to see Sam and Dean walk back into the living room. Dean walked over to him and dropped a small flat box in his lap. He read the label and looked up at the elder brother with a frown.

"_Ex-Lax_?"

"You've been riding the angel express. Trust me, you'll need it."

Tim glanced at Bobby, who just shook his head. The agent decided that he _really_ didn't want to know and set the box aside.

"So what exactly did Zachariah want with you?" asked Sam.

"I'm not completely sure, but one thing I do know is that he wanted me to find Michael's vessel. He said they needed a direct visual to do that…why do they need a visual to find you?"

"Those protection sigils Cas carved into your ribs, he also carved into ours to take us off the angel radar. We're invisible to them. How would _you_ have found us?"

"I have…er, _had_ access to databases, surveillance cameras and satellites. I guess he would have had me search for you using those. Although, come to think of it, I would have needed a good reason to search for you. I'm not sure how I would have worked around that."

"Well, considering that we were on the FBI's most wanted list for awhile, that would have been a place to start."

"You were? What for?"

"Long story. Basically we were in the right place at the wrong time."

"Oh."

"So… Zachariah was going to trust you to do this job?"

"Well, no. He said I'd have a co-pilot."

"Did he say who?"

"No. Just that it wasn't an archangel."

"Lucky you. I've seen what those bastards do to their vessels."

"How?"

"Cas and I needed to have a little chat with Raphael… and I'm not talking about the ninja turtle."

Tim rolled his eyes. It was almost like having Tony around. "So Raphael's on our side?"

"Not exactly, no."

"Great…" He studied the two men. "So…how exactly does one get to be a vessel?"

"It's hereditary. Certain bloodlines can provide hosts," Sam explained and Tim immediately felt a twist of fear.

"I have a sister. Could she…would they try to recruit her? What about my parents?"

"No."

The three men jumped slightly in surprise and turned to face the new arrival.

"A little warning would be nice, Cas," Dean groused. "And what did you mean, 'no'?"

"Tim is a vessel for one of the _Galearii._ Only certain members of a bloodline would be chosen by them, and Tim is the only one in his line currently under consideration."

"What are _Galearii_?"

"The lowest rank of angels. They are Heaven's foot-soldiers, and many of the higher level angels see them as… disposable."

"Great," Tim muttered. "I'm a Red-Shirt."

Dean chuckled. "You know, I think I might like this guy."

Tim saw the annoyed glare Sam sent his brother and managed a chuckle of his own as he rolled his eyes again.

Cas just tilted his head and studied the men, obviously missing a few key nuances in their conversation, but not terribly concerned about it. Tim suddenly remembered _his _major concern.

"I need to talk to Gibbs, my boss. He's going to be, uh, irate if he doesn't know what happened to me."

"Unfortunately, Gibbs and most of your team are being watched. I cannot allow you to be seen with them until the angels have moved on. As soon as it is safe I will arrange a meeting."

"But what about…" Tim realized that, considering the situation, it was rather ridiculous to be worrying about his duties at NCIS. Still, force of habit… "How are we going to explain my absence? NCIS will send out a BOLO and if anyone else sees me…"

"I have taken care of it. Your absence had been justified to the person in power, and he will provide an excuse for you. No one will question him."

"You told Gibbs?"

"No."

"Director Vance?"

"No. The man I spoke to is named Phillip Davenport." Castiel reached into his pocket and withdrew an oversized coin, which he handed to Tim. "He said I should give you this."

Tim glanced at the coin in his hand, although he had already figured out the significance of the name. "Oh, _crap_… Gibbs is going to _kill_ me…"

Dean glanced between the distraught agent and the unperturbed angel, obviously wondering just what he had missed.

"Who the hell is Phillip Davenport?"

XXX

"Tony!"

He immediately raised his head from where it had been resting on his desk and sat up when the hiss of his name reached his ears. "What, Ziva?"

"Look!" she hissed again.

He turned in the direction she was pointing and froze as he saw a familiar figure striding purposefully along the catwalk towards the director's office. He had only met this man a couple of times, and none of those encounters had been pleasant. Tony glanced over towards Gibbs' desk and when he saw the expression on the lead agent's face, his heart leapt into his throat. This was _not good_.

Gibbs immediately stood and headed up the stairs to the upper level without a backward glance at his agents. Ziva and Tony both moved to the center of the bullpen and watched as their boss disappeared within the office before they turned to each other.

"Do you think him being here has something to do with McGee?"

"I wish I could say no, Ziva, but…this might be worse than we thought."

"I do not think that is possible, Tony."

The remaining members of the team had been searching for some sign of their teammate all night and hadn't caught a single break. Vance had reported that none of the known groups had claimed responsibility for his disappearance, and none of the 'chatter' had provided any clues as to who might have taken him. Vance had contacted every agency within the federal 'alphabet soup' and none knew anything about McGee's disappearance, at least not that they would admit to the director of NCIS. The appearance of the SECNAV did not bode well for any of them at this point, especially McGee.

After about ten minutes, Davenport emerged from Vance's office and quickly made his way to the elevator. Tony was surprised to note that the smug expression that he had come to associate with the man was missing. Davenport looked a little shell- shocked, to be honest, but that expression was soon hidden under the man's normal façade.

"DiNozzo, David. My office, now."

Vance had followed the SECNAV out of the office and now had his attention focused on the bullpen. He wore an expression of thinly controlled anger, although Tony thought he could detect worry as well. He and Ziva both rushed up the stairs and followed Vance into his office. Gibbs was already there and obviously fuming.

"Boss? What's going on?"

Gibbs just waved at hand at Vance, indicating that the man should explain.

"Agent McGee is alive, and currently in protective custody. He has been chosen to work on a project that is vital to national security, and…yesterday his handlers became aware that he was in jeopardy. They removed him from the building and transferred him to a secure location."

Tony tried to take in everything he had just heard. The relief he had felt upon hearing that his teammate was safe had been quickly negated by the rest of the information Tony had just received. "What is this project? And why was McGee chosen?"

"That I can't tell you. The SECNAV has informed me of McGee's involvement in this project, but he would not reveal the nature of the assignment. As for why McGee was chosen, he would not reveal that either."

"I cannot believe McGee would have agreed to take the assignment without telling us at least _something._"

"Neither can I, Ziva," Gibbs growled, finally breaking his silence. "I want to know what in the hell the SECNAV has gotten him involved in, Leon."

"You heard what the man said, Gibbs."

"Yeah, I did, and it didn't make a damn bit of sense to me. McGee is _my_ agent. He knows the rules, and he wouldn't have taken a job like this without—"

"Consulting you? I really don't think he had a choice in the matter, Gibbs. If he hadn't agreed to take the project…"

"They _threatened_ him?" Fury erupted in Tony's voice. "What in the hell for?"

"As I have already told you, Agent DiNozzo, it's classified. I don't even know."

"So that is it? You are just going to let whoever has taken McGee _keep_ him?"

"It is for his _own_ safety, Agent David."

"But what about-?"

"Everything is being handled. When the threat has passed, Agent McGee will be returned to your team. In the meantime, you will not try to find him. Understood?"

"But—"

"Is that _clear_, Agents DiNozzo and David?

"Director—"

"_Is. That. Clear?"_

Vance's tone left no room for arguments.

"Yes, Director," the agents replied.

"Agent Gibbs?"

"I'm not happy about this, Leon."

"Noted. Now I suggest you return to your current case: Lieutenant Pruitt. Is there anything else?"

Gibbs said nothing before leaving the office without a backwards glance. Tony and Ziva exchange looks and then shook their heads.

"No, Director."

"Good. Dismissed."

The agents returned to the bullpen, only slightly surprised to find Gibbs gone.

"Guess he went to tell Abby," said Tony as he reached his desk and sat down.

"I do not understand this," said Ziva. "_How_ did they get him out of the building and into 'protective custody'?"

"No idea, Ziva. This is one for the record books."

She shook her head. "Something is definitely hinky."

"Yeah, it is. But unfortunately, we can't do anything about it. Guess we just better get back to work." He pulled up Pruitt's case file on his computer. After a few moments of silence, he saw Ziva do the same.

Tony tried to keep his attention on the case in front of him, but his gaze kept drifting to the desk to his right, its normal occupant, and what the man might be doing that was important enough to separate him from his team.

XXX

Gibbs set the half-pint jar of bourbon on his workbench and sighed. It had been nearly a week since McGee had vanished…been taken, supposedly, by those wanting to protect him. Gibbs had not been an agent for as long as he had without getting a sense that he was being lied to and during the meeting with the SECNAV, he _definitely_ had that feeling. What he couldn't figure out was _why._ He was pretty damn sure the whole 'special assignment' story was a crock, some sort of CYA move on the part of the SECNAV to deal with an op that had gone wrong, but he still didn't know why his agent had been involved in the first place.

A soft rustle drew his attention to the corner of his basement and he immediately reached for his gun when he saw the strange man standing there.

"Who the hell are you? And how did you get in here?" Gibbs had started locking his door and was fairly sure he had locked it before he came downstairs. Hadn't he?

"I am here on behalf of Tim McGee. He would like to speak with you."

"Where is he?"

"I will take you to him." Before Gibbs could react the man appeared in front of him and placed two fingers on his forehead. Darkness swirled around him and soon he landed on a cold, hard surface with a thump.

"Boss?"

He looked up to see his missing agent standing over him.

"Are you OK?"

"McGee? What in the hell…?" He looked around and saw what looked like the interior of a large storage barn with strange symbols painted all over the walls and floor. "Where are we?"

"Uh, somewhere near Pontiac, Illinois." McGee reached down and offered a hand to Gibbs, who cautiously took a hold of it and hauled himself to his feet with a little help from his agent.

"What…Where have you been, McGee. And how did I get _here_?" He looked around and saw the man who had appeared in his basement. "Who is he?"

"That's Castiel. He, uh, provided the transportation."

Gibbs finally turned to take a good look at his wayward agent. Tim looked tired, but calmer than he would have expected given the circumstances.

"'Transportation'?' Illinois is hell and gone from Alexandria, McGee. Where are we, really?"

"Tim spoke the truth. We are where he says," Castiel replied.

Gibbs looked at his watch and held it up to his ear. It was still ticking, but only a few minutes had passed since he had last looked at it in his basement.

"What'd he do, teleport me?"

Tim chuckled softly. "Yeah, Boss, pretty much." He looked up and met Gibbs' gaze. "He can do that, you know, since he's an…angel."

"A _what?_" Gibbs looked at 'Castiel', who solemnly nodded. "Tell me you're kidding."

"Tim is speaking the truth. I am an angel of the Lord."

Before Gibbs could protest, there was thunder, followed by flashes of lightning, and in the flickering light Gibbs saw the shadows of two huge wings expand from the man's shoulders. The light faded and the wings vanished, but Gibbs could only stare in shock at the figure in front of him. Castiel stared back, and Gibbs thought he could almost see a smile on the…angel's face as his own knees gave out and he slowly sank to the ground.

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs, you and Tim have much to discuss. I will leave you for now." There was a faint rustle of wings and Castiel vanished. Finally Gibbs managed to look up at Tim, who immediately crouched down next to him.

"Are you OK, Boss?"

"No," Gibbs replied. "What…what's going on, Tim?"

Tim sighed. "It's been an interesting week, Boss."

Gibbs sat and listened as Tim explained everything: how Zachariah had taken Tim from the Yard and what he had wanted the agent to do; how Castiel had rescued Tim and hidden him from the other angels; the group that Tim was now with, and what they were trying to do.

"So let me get this straight," Gibbs said when Tim had finished. "Angels are real, they need humans as 'vessels', you're one of them, and so are two of the people you're working with to try and kill the Devil and save the world."

"Uh…yeah."

Gibbs managed a weak chuckle. "Always knew you'd move on to bigger things one day, McGee, but stopping the Apocalypse wasn't even on the list."

Tim laughed softly and shook his head. "Wasn't on my list either, Boss." His expression sobered. "I wanted to tell you about this sooner, but…"

"I was under surveillance."

"Yeah. I'm glad it didn't take longer, though. I guess angels have a short attention span."

"Or they moved on to someone else who could do what they needed."

"Maybe…"

"So now what?"

"I guess Castiel will take you back home, and I…I'm going to do what I can to make sure everyone is safe."

"Who's going to keep _you_ safe, Tim? These men that you're working with now?"

"I hope so."

"Just remember—."

"I don't have permission to die. Got it, Boss."

Gibbs smirked. He studied his agent for a moment before he reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

"You're doing the right thing, Tim."

"Thanks, Boss." He smiled weakly. "Gotta admit, though…this is a hell of a lot scarier than…anything I've ever done."

"Even riding in the car with me or Ziva driving?"

"I think I'll plead the fifth on that one."

Suddenly they heard the rustle of wings and turned to see Castiel watching them intently.

"It is time to return Gibbs to his home. Certain people are becoming concerned with his absence."

Gibbs smirked again. "Looks like I'm breaking one of my own rules, McGee. Now if you ever need to reach me…"

"I'll figure it out, Boss. Thanks for…everything."

Gibbs reached up and patted Tim's cheek. "Good luck, Tim. And thank _you_." He walked over to Castiel and the angel touched his forehead. Soon he found himself back in his basement, alone, and his cell phone was ringing. He sighed and reached for it.

"Yeah, Gibbs. I'm fine, DiNozzo, just had to step out for a minute. What? Yeah, I'll be there as soon as I can."

He snapped his phone shut and paused to think about what he had just learned…

Finally he shook his head and started up the stairs.

XXX

Tim stumbled a little as he arrived back at Bobby's. The men were all gathered in the study and they looked up as he entered the doorway.

"You get everything straightened out with your boss?"

"Yeah. We're good."

"Awesome. Glad to have you back, Tim." Dean grinned and handed Tim a stack of books, causing the agent to groan. "We've got work to do."

The End

(for now)

* * *

I imagine I will return to this 'verse at some point, either in a multi-chapter story or as a series of one-shots. Not sure when that will be, though. Maybe the next time I have to write this recipient a hangman prize :)


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